


rosebuds

by thebriars



Category: Victoria - ITV
Genre: Hickeys, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, i finally did it oml, yayyyy the hickey fic has happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-27 01:45:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18294347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebriars/pseuds/thebriars
Summary: Somehow, whether by luck or divine intervention, Alfred had managed to secure a night completely alone. He only dared go about the matter on the nights where he knew they were truly both on edge, stewing in their suffocating positions for something true, something free.--and then smut happens be warned





	rosebuds

**Author's Note:**

> hi heres the tea: i have always said that i am not going to write smut. here we are. happy birthday drums; i have sullied your name forever lol
> 
> i listened to 'wicked games' by the weeknd for four hours while writing this and intermittently having a crisis, only because it was the first song on this sex playlist i found on spotify. not a bad one either, tbh.

Somehow, whether by luck or divine intervention, Alfred had managed to secure a night completely alone. He only dared go about the matter on the nights where he knew they were truly both on edge, stewing in their suffocating positions for something true, something free.

But it was these kinds of nights that brought Alfred through it all — the nights where court was quiet enough for Alfred to excuse himself for an evening at home, where he dismissed his sparse staff and carefully lit candles by the bedside and poured brandy with shaky hands, anticipation flooding his mind and thrumming hot through his veins.

And it was something about the scarcity of these nights that sweetened it all. Alfred, as much as he craved and longed for familiar hands and lips, refused to endanger them and the carefully constructed façade they carved about them both. Rather, Alfred refused to endanger  _ him _ . He had spent enough time lurking in palace corners with a cheroot to know that rumors flew on silver tongues amongst the servants, and that an empty house that coincided with a neighbor’s sighting or a stray ribbon or unfamiliar cravat in the wash was all it took for rumors to become iron bars.

Alfred shuddered and downed the remained of his brandy.

He had taken to waiting cautiously by the back door for Edward to arrive, remaining tucked into the shadows of the hall. A silhouette, a passing pair of shadows… it was all a danger, all a risk.

He was beginning to regret finishing the brandy so quickly.

Alfred sighed and leaned his head against the wall, staring rather glumly at the flowered wallpaper, for still, no knocks came upon his back door.

It had a curious few years, he decided as he gave in and wandered back to the drawing room to pour himself another dram. Knowing his lover’s clockwork schedule, f he hadn’t arrived at the usual time, he’d arrive  _ far _ later than normal. And Edward  _ had _ mentioned that the debates may run longer again — something about a budding movement amongst the lower classes. Honestly, Alfred Hadn’t been paying much attention to politics unless it came to him in a stack of papers from the Queen or in a frenzied storm of questions from the royal couple. He’d been busy daydreaming and following the Prince around in some quest for a magical solution to the unsettlement trickling from Paris to London, and then daydreaming some more and writing sappy letters he could never send. Perhaps, many months ago, Alfred would have been fuming at the thought of how he must be so furtive in his love and why he must keep his letters closed tightly away in a box of mementos — they lay with the lock of hair Edward had bestowed upon him before leaving on a diplomatic venture to Ireland, the creased and frayed response Edward had never been able to send that fateful day so many ages ago, the watercolor Miss Coke had slipped him that depicted the pair in the embrace by the lake in Scotland… shreds of Edward, shreds of their love.

A smile came to Alfred’s face as he remembered that magical first kiss, the way their eyes had been lingering too long for years before that, and how in those critical moments afterwards, Edward had looked as awake and alight as Alfred felt.

Of course, things were hard, and the constant underlying nervousness of everything they did was horrible, but then their nights together rolled around and everything changed for the better.

Alfred settled on the edge of the settee, brandy in hand, and tugged at his cravat. It really was quite stifling, and he was really beginning to wonder if he would have to retire to bed alone so early if only to get out of his clothing. He’d thrown his coat over the chairback long before, rather glad to escape the strict fashion of Buckingham at long last.

He spent a good half-hour swirling the brandy offhandedly and gazing at the spines of his books, wondering whether Harriet had returned from her trip to Trentham Hall to arrange some new provisions amongst her children and if Miss Coke was managing to find some entertainment at the palace. (Unlikely, but one could hope.)

After what felt like eons of waiting, Alfred heard a creak on the back step and darted down the hallway, abandoning his brandy on the sideboard and holding his breath, heart in his throat. What if Edward had been seen coming down the way? What if he had been apprehended or followed and there was a constable at the door, ready to take them both away?

Every little piece of anxiety faded away when Alfred recognized the singular silhouette just beyond the frosted glass panel. He grinned to himself and deftly unlocked the door, brandy forgotten at the sudden rush of heat in his cheeks.

“Good evening,” Edward said, just beneath his breath, glancing up from under the brim of his hat. Alfred gulped at the sight of him.

“You’re late,” he whispered, but Edward was up the steps and taking hold of Alfred’s waist with strong hands, dragging them both into the hall, a firm look in his eye.

“I most  _ sincerely _ apologize,” said he, humor tinging his voice, and Alfred fumbled to lock the door behind them as Edward mouthed at his jawline.

Alfred could hardly think, much less click the lock in place.  _ God _ , how he had missed him, how he had missed the gleam in his eyes, the warmth of his lips and the small smile he sent Alfred from across the room…

“Edward,” he stuttered, back pressed flat against the door, fingers spreading under the hem of Edward’s coat, reaching up to trace over his chest and shoulders and up to his neck, “Edward, bedroom soon, but let’s talk first.”

Edward hummed and left a lingering kiss on Alfred’s cheek before standing and hanging his hat on its usual hook. “Indeed, love. And I am sorry for my lack of a note, but the debate was rather frenzied and I didn’t dare send word so late…”

Alfred slipped Edward’s coat from his arms, noticing the weariness in his movements and in the way his eyes fluttered closed when Alfred ghosted his lips over the patch of skin just above the top of his collar. “Sit down and I’ll pour you something. You’ve been overtaxing yourself.”

“Perhaps,” Edward laughed, taking Alfred’s hand and following him dutifully to the parlor.

With Edward settled on the settee, brandy in hand, and Alfred tucked against him (drapes pulled tightly closed, of course), the notion of a conversation began to dissipate. They could talk all they wanted in public, what with their near-weekly rides together under the guise of a matched love for the parks of London, but  _ this _ , the intimacy, the moments of unadulterated connection, was rare.

Alfred tilted his head up to nip at Edward’s neck, and when he inhaled sharply and carefully set the brandy aside (there were really quite a few half-empty glasses scattered across the sideboard now), some innate and profoundly carnal bit of Alfred tensed.

“Is it time?” Edward whispered, running his hands lightly down from where they had come to rest on Alfred’s shoulders, down to his waist and his hips.

“Always,” Alfred whispered back, craning back to kiss at the sharp cut of Edward’s jaw, fingers catching on stiff fabric as he tried to loosen his cravat. Somehow, this sparked a complete frenzy of action, the buttons of his waistcoat undone with little care for the feeble threads holding them down, clothes gathering in a small pile on the floor, shoes kicked off and hair rumpled by eager hands.

“God, how I’ve missed you,” Edward said, echoing Alfred’s thoughts as they readjusted, rolling this way and that until Alfred lie beneath him in shirtsleeves and trousers, cheeks flushed to burning and hands wandering down to brush at the catch between shirt and waistline.

“And I you,” Alfred hummed, and it seemed only natural to meet in a kiss quite passionate and, though common between them, entirely electric.

Lips pressed insistently and gave way to something deeper, something Alfred had always hated until it was Edward he was kissing, and they began to rock together, almost subconsciously moving closer and closer until Alfred was shucking the remainder of his clothing and Edward was following suit and they sat enveloped in each other’s embrace, bare and more comfortable than seemed possible. 

“You are beyond beautiful,” Alfred said reverently, and Edward made a noise somewhere between a moan and a yelp of surprise when he reached down to palm between his legs.

“Give a man some  _ warning _ ,” he gasped, but there was no protest when Alfred straddled him and they grew ever nearer, moving in tandem with an urgency Alfred wished they were at liberty to abandon. Anyone could come to the door, anyone could hear the delectable little noises Edward made against Alfred’s skin, and anyone could grow suspicious. It was entirely possible that this was their last time.

But Alfred didn’t dare think of that as he continued to palm vaguely, his rhythm stuttering as Edward darted forward to bite at the place where neck met shoulder.

“And you speak of warning — oh, again,  _ please  _ —,” Alfred whined, freezing in his movement altogether to allow Edward greater access to his throat. They had yet to leave marks  (though Alfred has always found them delightful) for fear of being caught, and yet…

Edward sucked lightly at the dip of Alfred’s collarbone, working his fingers through Alfred’s hair and leaving the way Alfred was nearly keening beneath his lips unmentioned.

Some distant piece of Alfred thought that he should probably give something in return, and he ran one hand up to curl against the nape of Edward’s neck and the other down to grab at the swell of his ass, spurring Edward to nip rather harshly at his neck (so Alfred dug his fingers in more, and Edward responded just as he had previously).

“Lay back,” Edward breathed, and Alfred dropped back onto the settee rather reluctantly, missing the warmth of his lips already.

Edward hovered above him for a moment, flushed all over and holding himself up on his forearms. He grimaced and before Alfred could sit up in concern, he muttered “I really have destroyed your neck, haven’t I?” in a defeated tone.

“Good God, love, you make it sound as if I wasn’t asking you to do so. By all means, destroy it more,” Alfred teased, and with a firm yank (though which hands did the deep was unclear), they fell together again.

Edward worked down from Alfred’s neck to his chest, lingering for a moment to leave a bite curiously similar to the scar on Edward’s own, before moving closer and closer to the desired destination. When it became clear what Edward’s intentions were, Alfred squeezed Edward’s arm and curled up halfway so he could meet his eyes better.

“Are you quite sure? Last time, it… did not go particularly well.”

“Only because you bucked up so violently. If only you would keep still this time —.”

Alfred snorted. “Darling, you know that is impossible.”

“Yes, but let me  _ try _ .”

Alfred dropped back down, using every last shred of self-control to keep from thrusting upwards when Edward’s lips left the plane of his stomach and —

Alfred whimpered and Edward perked up immediately, face awash in concern, but when Alfred made a vague and desperate noise that was supposed to mean  _ don’t stop now _ , he dropped back to his prior activities and hardly hesitated from there on out.

Thinking of anything other than the pure and universal sensation of pleasure and comfort that was flooding up through Alfred’s veins was far beyond his capabilities. And oh, did he  _ love _ Edward, with a sort of burning, eternal passion that ebbed and flowed between intensity and sweetness and a thousand layers of emotion between. He remembered the panic at the thought of losing him so early, and while the sentiment between them was so tedious, and then the sorrow when Edward was unsure if breaking the engagement was even possible…

But it all faded away in the face of  _ this _ , the way that Edward’s hands were pressing into Alfred’s hip and the way his curls parted easily between Alfred’s fingers, catching only when he did something particularly igniting and Alfred dug his nails into his skin to keep from twisting beneath Edward’s skilled mouth.

Alfred noticed vaguely that Edward had let off and was working back up to nose and his neck again, but the burning sensation in every last bit of him went on and on, even as he attacked Edward with a kiss deeper than he had thought possible, even as they rose together and Alfred took them both in hand, even as he felt Edward shudder and even as they fell limply onto the poor settee together, panting and tracing along the lines of each other’s bodies.

Alfred blinked sleepily, looking down at Edward, who rested his head against Alfred’s, and swept the pads of his fingers gingerly over the rosebud marks littering Alfred’s neck.

“We never did make it to the bedroom,” Edward said ruefully, but Alfred was overcome with too much adoration to think of a clever response.

“I love you,” he whispered, or some reverent variant of the phrase, something that meant more than  _ I love you _ ever could.

Edward murmured it back, breath hot against the sensitive patch of skin under Alfred’s jaw, making him squirm and igniting another moment of intense movement, a sort of final aftershock before they drifted off together, wrapped in warmth and satisfaction, leaving the mess they’d made for the morning, and Alfred quite thankful that he’d told his staff he’d be meeting for breakfast and the palace so they’d be undisturbed until Edward really, truly had to go.

Alfred squeezed Edward closer to him and smiled as the candles flickered down to their bases and night closed in. 

**Author's Note:**

> welllllllllllllll i'm just gonna drop this here and run
> 
> leave a comment?


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